


The Genital Complex

by ApocalypseThen



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Magic Cock, Masturbation, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseThen/pseuds/ApocalypseThen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack finds out what her dick was actually designed for.<br/>WARNING: Graphic descriptions of rape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RunnerFive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunnerFive/gifts).



> A kmeme fill:
> 
> http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/9115.html?thread=44119707#t44119707

Jack gripped her dick firmly at the base and revelled in the quiver that spread out from her groin to warm her tensed thighs. She put her head back and groaned as she began to run her fist up and down her shaft. Her hand was just too small to fully encircle her thick member.

She ran a thumb over her slit, spreading the freely-flowing, clear, sticky precum over the head and flange of her dick. She started to pump in earnest, her hand sliding more and more easily as precum coated her shaft. Heat rose up her chest and neck, springing her nipples to points, as every vein in her dick stood out.

She curled her toes and grunted in satisfaction as she felt her balls pull tight. She could feel the flow begin, a head of pressure building up, a racing column of spunk that felt like the start of a great piss, until finally the contractions kicked in. Spurt after spurt of thick jizz rocketed out of her cock, falling onto her neck and chest. Jack jerked herself to completion, then squeezed the last drops out.

She didn't bother to clean up. She was hard again within a minute. She picked up her spunk and used it to lubricate her next wank.

“Jack?” called Shepard from the top of the stairwell. “You coming?”

“Ah, fuck!” cried Jack, her voice cracking into a girlishly high pitch. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I'll be right there, Shepard.”

Jack packed away her cock in a hurry, cleaning her chest off with a rag. There wasn't much she could do about the smell, but her usual unwashed stench should cover that. Luckily Shepard didn't come down the stairs to her little hidey-hole to see what was up.

Fuck. So much for pre-mission rituals. But Shepard was doing her a favour, bringing her back to Pragia. The least she could do was not hold things up. Well. Better horny than dead.


	2. Chapter 2

As they crowded around the terminal Jack had to master the burning need to grip her dick firmly. Fuck, why did this always happen around that damned Lawson bitch? She got aching, drooling hard every time, and that just pissed her off. Why had Shepard brought her along anyway? She knew they didn't get along. All she'd done so far was make excuses for all the sick shit they'd done here, claiming it wasn't truly Cerberus, just some rogue op.

Shepard activated the recording.

“Henry Lawson's requirements were nearly impossible to realise. Grafting the secondary reproductive system onto patient Zero was physically possible but not straightforward. We won't know for sure if it took until she goes through puberty. Now we have to explain to an eight year old girl...”

The log entry cut out in a burst of static. Jack stared at Miranda with disbelief, the pressure in her heavy dick forgotten. The only thing stopping her from tearing Miranda's throat out was the fact that she looked equally shocked at hearing her father's name. 

Miranda's eyes drifted slowly downward to Jack's crotch.

Shepard put herself between the two of them pretty quickly when she saw the way they were looking at each other. “Are we going to have a problem here?” she asked, projecting authority with her voice.

Miranda was the first to respond. “No, ma'am,” she said.

Jack was silent, her jaw working noiselessly, but she was eventually able to spit something out. “Fuck!” She turned away and walked down the hall. Shepard went with her, throwing a warning look over her shoulder. Miranda hung back, no doubt realising that Shepard had a better chance of handling Jack. There was some mutual respect there, unlike the utter contempt and fury with which Jack treated Miranda by default.

Miranda studied the terminal, running her omnitool diagnostics over it. There was more to the message, but it needed reconstruction. She downloaded a copy to study later. Shepard was signalling her. She drew her pistol and strode briskly to catch up. A flush rose in her cheeks, as she rejoined the others. She was careful to keep Shepard between herself and Jack.

Jack refused to look at her for the rest of the time they spent in the Teltin facility.


	3. Chapter 3

Miranda watched the recording for the tenth time. She couldn't tell if she was horrified or excited. She had no idea how she was going to approach Jack. She wasn't motivated by money. Her last request, to sift through the Cerberus archives, had been granted already. What could Miranda offer her, to secure her cooperation? 

And how would she put her proposal to Jack, without sounding like she was trying to humiliate her? She couldn't imagine that Jack would respond well to her pleas, no matter how heartfelt. She clearly did have some sense of honour, though, or she would never have agreed to hold up her end of the bargain that Shepard had struck with her. 

Miranda pondered. What did Jack want, more than anything else? Revenge? Maybe. Would she die to get even, though? Perhaps that was the wrong way to think about it. What did Jack _need_? What did she value, above anything else? Freedom. A way out, once the mission was over, some security against further interference from Cerberus and the hostile galaxy in general.

A ship. If Miranda could offer Jack a ship of her own... she could very well imagine that Jack would go for that. Could she afford one? She smiled thinly. No. But her father could.

Never mind that they weren't on speaking terms. She had the galaxy's greatest thief aboard. And she still knew a few of the relevant security protocols. Hacking into his accounts should be all in a day's work for Kasumi Goto.

There was still the question of how to approach Jack without getting her head bitten off, however.


	4. Chapter 4

“She wants _what_?” gasped Jack, fury and disbelief time-sharing the furrows of her brow.

“Don't shoot the messenger, Jack,” said Shepard. “And look at what she's offering. If nothing else, it shows how serious Miranda is about this.”

Her own ship. _Fuck_. Jack could strangle the bitch for getting in her head like that. She'd fantasised about owning her own ship since forever. Nobody should know her that well. She hated how vulnerable it made her feel, that someone could read her so easily.

But her own ship. Holy fuck. The _Bloodspear_. No, the _Slaughterhouse_. Shit, she'd fuck up anyone who said _Motherfucker_ was a poor name for a ship. And their mothers.

“ _Motherfucker_ ,” said Jack, but without the vehemence that normally characterised her profanity. Shepard misunderstood.

“Look, you don't even have to talk to her,” said Shepard. “Just go see Doctor Chakwas. She'll take care of everything.” Shepard turned to leave. “Also, Jack, if you ever do want to talk about it...”

“Oh, get lost, Shepard,” said Jack, but her heart clearly wasn't in it. “I don't have time for the girl's club right now.”

Shepard knew that was as close to a 'thanks, I'll think about it' that she was likely to get out of Jack. She left her to her thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you _ever_ wash, young lady?” asked Karin Chakwas as she conducted her exam.

Jack purpled and headed for the door, fists clenched.

“Wait!” said Karin. “I'm sorry. That wasn't very sensitive of me. Please, come back.” Jack's unwashed stench didn't cause much of a problem on board as she kept mostly to herself. But against the antiseptic purity of the med-bay it was particularly pungent.

Jack turned back to face her, a scowl on her face. “I'm sorry, Jack,” said Karin. “Of course, I should have realised. Communal showers.”

Jack's fury dissipated, but she had never trusted doctors. Not after the things that had been done to her. Sitting still for a non-invasive scan was already asking a lot.

“I'll see if I can arrange something, if you like,” continued Karin.

“Don't do me any favours, Doc,” said Jack combatively, although she submitted to the rest of the scan without putting up a fight.

“Nonsense,” replied Karin. “I shall ensure that the women's bathroom is available for your exclusive use at 2400 hours ship time, daily. Is that convenient?”

“Whatever, Doc,” said Jack dismissively. “Now how's this supposed to work?”

“Very well. I see that your urethra has been routed through your... augmentation,” Karin said, sounding a little uncomfortable.

“You can say 'dick', Doc,” said Jack, “I don't mind.”

“I'm sorry,” said Karin. “It's just... rather impressive, for someone your size. Well, first you should urinate. Then wipe your... penis... down thoroughly with this disinfectant wipe.” Karin paused. “Use as many as you need,” she added. Given the smell, she didn't want to imagine the state of Jack's nether regions. It was shocking that the scan showed her to be healthy and not harboring twelve flavours of infectious disease in her... _complex_ genital area.

Jack nodded sagely at the instructions. Karin wondered if she would even bother to follow them. “Then you will masturbate to ejaculation, and catch the results in this container.” Karin held up a small plastic container with a red top, but didn't hand it to her. “You can lie down if you like, some people find that easier.”

Jack stepped forward to take the container. She grabbed a fistful of wipes and headed for the door.

“Wait!” said Karin. “You have to do it here.” She indicated a corner of the medbay fenced off by privacy screens. “Take as long as you need.”

Jack frowned. “Here?”

“It's standard protocol,” said Karin. “And part of the deal, I'm afraid.” Karin could see Jack debating with herself. Pragmatism won the day.

“Fine,” said Jack. “I can do it here this once. You gonna watch, too?”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” said Karin, as Jack headed behind the screens. “But you realise you have to come back on a daily basis for the forseeable future?”

Jack, dick half-hard in her hand already, seethed. She'd thought this would be a one-time thing. Now the Cerberus _bitch_ was going to make her sing and dance for her reward, with no end in sight. She'd be hanging around, dick in hand, until Miranda told her otherwise. No way. No _fucking_ way. She released herself and set the container down on the cot.

“Why does _she_ want my spunk anyway, Doc?” called Jack, carefully keeping her voice neutral.

“You don't already know?” asked Karin, astonished. “Well, the short version is that Miranda has a genetic condition that makes her unable to have children. Your semen was designed to reverse it.”

Jack gave in to her rage and stormed out.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack had thought she was used to being _used_.

She hadn't know why they'd given her a dick but she'd become accustomed to it, sometimes even enjoyed having it. To find out that it wasn't really hers after all, that she was just a handy host for the parasitic appendage to generate a cure for Henry Lawson's precious daughter. For the Cerberus bitch. She was furious. She was tempted just to cut the damn thing off, once and for all. She'd thought about it before. 

But dicks gave you power too, she'd come to understand. For all it's modernity, the galaxy was still a dangerous place for women. More than once she'd been able to make good on what someone had assumed to be an idle threat. _I'll fuck you in the ass_. There were occasions when she'd never felt more in control than pumping away inside someone, getting herself off as quickly as she could and not giving a damn about their feelings. It might have been an after-market addition, but it was part of her now, part of her character.

Letting that smarmy perfect tit-heavy cheerleading bitch dictate when and where she could bust a nut filled her with a barely contained rage. She wasn't going to be anybody's spunk factory. But she wasn't stupid enough to confront Miranda directly. She'd seen her in action. What she lacked in raw power she made up for in control.

_Control_. Miranda was trying to control everything around her, as usual, just like Cerberus wanted. Dangle the promise of ship in front of her to make her dance and jerk like a puppet. She'd show that bitch what control meant. She had some thinking to do.

But first, maybe a shower. Although Chakwas had promised to keep the bathroom free for her at this hour, she still hoped like hell there was someone in there already. She hoped like hell they made some smarmy dumb comment. She wanted to pound someone into a pulp.


	7. Chapter 7

Miranda read Chakwas's report nervously. Jack's fragile psychological state came as no surprise. The details of the bioengineering required to graft a fully functional cock and balls onto her, and integrate it fully with her nervous system were fascinating. It was way beyond anything that had been required by the Lazarus project.

There were some oddities, however. Jack had a massive prostate gland, three or four times the average size. She must be constantly horny and constantly oozing semen. According to the readings, it was the semen that carried the agent that was tailored to correct Miranda's DNA, not the sperm. Jack produced sperm too, but that was conspicuously unmodified, carrying only her own X chromosomes. 

The size of the prostate suggested to Miranda that a large quantity of semen would be required to treat her. But it wasn't to be. She was distraught. To have such an opportunity in her grasp, to be denied her greatest need by a petulant, over-stimulated child, left her frustrated and angry. She'd offered Jack her heart's desire and it hadn't been enough. She couldn't understand why she'd been turned down.

Goddamn it. So close. She'd tried everything else, every treatment known to science. And now to find out that her father had engineered the cure years ago. And hadn't told her. Had he just been waiting for the right time to use the information to bend her to his will again? Or did he presume the cure was lost with the demise of the Teltin project? Miranda was confused, she couldn't think clearly.

She couldn't stop thinking about Jack. It was getting annoying. Miranda found herself thinking about the stench that Jack exuded, and recognised in it the raw scrotal notes that she hadn't been able to make sense of before. No woman should smell like that, even without bathing. Her nipples perked up at the thought of getting a good sniff of those filthy balls and their heavy load of healing spunk.

Bloody hell. Where had that come from? Was she really that baby-crazy? Was her mind telling her to do anything to fix the one conspicuous flaw that her body bore? God. She couldn't get the image out of her head. She wondered what it looked like, Jack's dick, how it would feel in her hand, how it might taste in her mouth.

Her hand wandered down to tug at the crotch of her jumpsuit. How would Jack's dick feel, filling her with it's solid girth? Would she feel anything as she was pumped full of semen? Would the effects be instantaneous? Would her fibroids shrink, her period cramps fade away?

A graphic image of Jack's cock covered with her menstrual blood presented itself in her mind's eye. Miranda's hand massaged her crotch in earnest now. Fuck. She must be ill. Jack was the furthest thing from her type and dirty sex was her least favorite kind.

Then why was she coming so _hard_ in her office chair when she was supposed to be working? Something was very wrong here. And she was a mess. She needed a shower.


	8. Chapter 8

Jack was standing under a stream of scalding hot water when she heard the door to the bathroom open. She clenched her fists and stood still. Chakwas had _promised_. But this was what she wanted, wasn't it? She wanted a confrontation. Her back was to the door and steam made visibility poor. There was a chance whoever it was wouldn't notice the tool she was packing.

Well, she'd make them notice. And then she'd make them pay. She turned around. Miranda had picked the furthest stall and had her back turned. She was unzipping her jumpsuit. She hadn't recognised Jack through the steam that writhed around her.

Jack quivered with rage. As she stared at Miranda, murder in her mind, her dick hardened slowly. She caught a whiff of something, sweet and light and clean-smelling as Miranda stepped under a stream of water and started lathering product into her hair. 

Jack suddenly knew what she wanted to do more than anything. She wanted to take control from Miranda. That would be so much better than any bribe the dumb bitch could offer her. To finally show her that her perfect genes, her hard work, her superior abilities and intellect didn't mean _dick_ in the real world.

She left her shower running as she yanked on her pants and boots. Her dick made a monstrous tent of her fly. She let her biotic charge accumulate. She figured she had one good shot at this. Stealth wasn't her usual approach to confrontation. The showers were one place where EDI didn't have surveillance but that didn't mean that she could unleash a full biotic assault. She had to be subtle. She _hated_ subtle. She wasn't any good at it.

Jack summoned her concentration and made a loose sphere of biotic energy, broader than the shower stall that Miranda was in. She let it drift over to surround Miranda. Wisp-thin, the electrostatic field was neutralised by the water in the air and faint glow was disguised by the steam.

Jack let the sphere collapse slowly, shrinking it while it gained in density and strength. She struggled to maintain control. If she let loose now, it would crush Miranda's head. Miranda must have had her eyes closed because she surely would have noticed it by now if they had been open. Jack let the field settle to a small sphere just bigger than Miranda's head.

Miranda's eyes flew open and she saw the blue glow straight away. She spun around to face Jack, who stood across from her, staring her down. She brought her hands up to summon her own biotics but then saw the expression on Jack's face. She must have realised that she was at Jack's mercy. If she attacked, the field would collapse and take her head with it. She lowered her arms to her sides.

“What're you trying to prove, Jack?” she asked in the smug, superior tone that Jack hated.

“Talk more, bitch,” replied Jack. “You'll use up the air quicker.”

Miranda looked up at the glowing, airtight sphere around her head apprehensively. “You wouldn't,” she said.

“You have no goddamned idea,” spat Jack in response. “Now take a deep breath. You're gonna need it.”

To her credit, Miranda stood there for another four minutes without visible signs of distress before crumpling slowly to the floor, unconscious.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphic descriptions of rape.

“I'll scream,” said Miranda, her voice calm and level, lifting her head up. She had waited until she had fully regained consciousness to speak.

Jack looked up at her from where she was levering off her boots. She did something frightening with her mouth. Technically it was a smile. Miranda felt afraid for one of the few times in her life. “Yeah. You will,” replied Jack.

Miranda tested her bonds. She was trussed effectively, her fists wrapped in copious layers of packing tape and taped to the bars of Jack's camp bed. Despite the layers of tape she knew she could use her biotics to break free. For the moment she decided to see what Jack had in mind. She was wearing her jacket but her pants and underwear were missing. Her feet were likewise taped, but close to her hands. Her knees were up in the air. She brought them together. “EDI must have seen you bring me down here,” she tried.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Wanna find out?” Jack asked as she shucked off her pants. Her dick sprang free, raging hard, drooling precum from its slit. “I figure, if you want my spunk so bad, I'll give it to you.” She came to stand by Miranda's head. Miranda could see the heavy nuts she'd been thinking about so recently, sparsely covered by black curls. One hung a little lower than the other.

And the dick. Up close. It was a monster. Eight inches long, a thickness to the shaft that had Miranda swallowing spit. And a taut shiny flanged head that looked as big as a fist. 

The smell hit her. The shower had taken away the intensity of Jack's general rankness, leaving her natural musk behind. Her spicy woman's smell was quite overpowered by the bitter odor rising from her sweaty nutsack. Miranda flushed pink and her nipples stood at attention, hardening up through her suit jacket. Jack had neglected to put her bra back on. Her vision blurred and her head began to swim. She let out a small noise, a moan or a gasp.

“Jack, wait, please,” said Miranda, squirming away from Jack as best she could, but squirming also felt so good. She felt wetness between her thighs as they rubbed against each other.

“Fuck that,” said Jack. “I'm not your fucking cum spigot. And this isn't your daddy's dick, bitch.” Jack stroked her cock firmly, gathered up a fingerful of precum and wiped it on Miranda's lips. 

Miranda was disgusted to find herself moaning wantonly and licking her lips. The sharp taste coated her tongue and she felt herself salivating hotly, wanting to spit but swallowing instead. “No,” she insisted, breathing heavily. “Not like this. Please.”

Jack climbed on to the camp bed and levered her knees apart. Miranda tried to fight but her muscles wouldn't respond. Jack's reek was overpowering, the noxious molecules filled her nose and lungs, sapping her strength. Miranda tried to fight but it felt so right to have Jack between her legs, to have that dick approaching its target, the home it had been designed for. Her muscles wouldn't obey her. "Fuck. I knew you wanted it," said Jack. "Fucking slut." She readied her quivering member, guiding it to Miranda's opening. Miranda was thoroughly wet. She felt like an observer trapped inside her own head, unable to stop her body from responding to Jack's proximity.

Jack had no trouble slipping the huge head of her cock past Miranda's opening. Miranda groaned involuntarily as Jack slid her length inside, as she was stretched and filled. Her hips bucked upwards to accommodate more even as she compressed her lips and tried to turn her head away from the sudden proximity of Jack's leering features. “No,” she mewled, pulling weakly at her bonds, “please, Jack. A ship. I'll give you a ship.”

“Fuck,” grunted Jack, “you.” Miranda's nostrils flared as she tried to bring herself under control, but as Jack pressed herself against her chest, the heat of her drove Miranda over the edge. She came before Jack had even begun to thrust, waves of contractions pulsing out from her groin and filling her with hot shame. She let out a small wail of disgust at herself.

Jack held her close as her orgasm subsided, her teeth gritted, luxuriating in the tightness and heat of Miranda's sex, but trying not to let Miranda's wantoness control her response even from her helpless position. Only then did she begin to pump away, the huge head of her thick member pulling involuntary, self-disgusted little noises from Miranda's throat each time it slid past her pelvic bone.

Jack used a hand to force Miranda's head around to face her, to look her in the eye. She drew her lips back and grinned at the tears trickling from the corners of Miranda's eyes. Miranda shut her mouth firmly in Jack's face, and her little yelps became high-pitched and nasal. Jack responded by biting at her neck, sucking in pale flesh between her teeth.

Miranda lost any last semblance of control, a shuddering cry bursting from her mouth as her head tilted back. The intense suction at her neck sent twitches all across her body, connecting firmly with the sensations between her legs.

That victory was enough to bring Jack to a climax, the head of her dick expanding even further as she thrust deep inside Miranda, her veiny shaft throbbing and pulsing as her semen-heavy jizz pumped forth. Her eyes rolled up and a trickle of drool came from the corner of her mouth as it went on and on, her lips losing contact with Miranda's neck.

Miranda could feel it filling her, so much that it oozed past Jack's pulsing cock and trickled out. She was ashamed that she felt anguish that some of it was being wasted. She was convinced that she could feel it flowing inside her already, seeking out and correcting her flaws.

Jack finally finished and climbed off her. Miranda felt distraught at the sudden emptiness. More tears came to her eyes and trickled out of the corners. Jack grasped the base of her slimy, softening cock and looked down at Miranda with a cocky, satisfied grin. “Fuck, cheerleader, you know how to drain a dick.”

Jack brought her head down close to Miranda's face. “Now tell me you want more.”

Miranda looked Jack in the eyes. She opened her mouth to tell her to go to hell, but... “More. Give me more,” she said quietly. She hated herself for saying it. She knew the heat rising within her was just lust, a result of her inexplicable, disgusting attraction to this violent, despicable woman. But she knew in her bones that the cure was working. It had to be. Surely the designers of this cure had intended for them to be attracted to each other on a chemical level, beyond their rational control.

“More what?” asked Jack, her hot breath inches from Miranda's mouth.

Miranda teared up again. “More spunk. Fill me up, Jack,” she said. “Give it to me. I want it. I need it. I need you.”

“Yeah?” said Jack, straightening up. “Maybe some other time.”

Miranda started to blubber. “No, please, fix me, Jack, fix me with your dick, I want you, please, please...”

“You've got me all wrong, princess,” said Jack, who was hard as a bar all over again. “I don't fix. I _fuck shit up_.”

But she climbed on to the cot again anyway, and slid her dick home.


End file.
